


Rhapsody in Blue

by sacklersdoll



Category: Adam Driver-Fandom, Charlie Barber-Fandom, Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Cum Eating, F/M, Other, Pure Smut, but you definitely wanna fuck him, explicit consent not given
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27480742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sacklersdoll/pseuds/sacklersdoll
Summary: Things with your piano professor get a bit heated when you can’t get a piece right.
Relationships: Charlie Barber x Reader, Charlie Barber/Reader
Kudos: 16





	Rhapsody in Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this from 2am to 3am so here it is jadknasj lmao

Professor Charlie Barber was sitting next to you, legs lined up perfectly on the small piano bench. Fingers moving delicately across the black and white keys, playing the very same song he had been trying to teach you for the past half hour. See, you would listen to everything he said, watch every movement his thick but nimble fingers made, but it just wouldn’t stick. As he continues to play your mind escapes somewhere, almost in a trance from watching his hands move up and down the keyboard. You imagine those same fingers reaching down your leggings. Those same fingers plunging in and out of you while his perfectly plush lips murmur praises into your neck. A chill runs up your spine at the thought, knocking you out of your daydream.

When you come back to reality, Charlie is finishing up the piece before looking to you to do just as he did. Your fingers trace over the same places his own did, but eventually you lose your place about half way through. Your name comes from his mouth in a frustrated tone, making you wince a bit. 

“How many times have we played this through? Why can’t you get it right?” He sounds exasperated, hand that was just so delicately pressing each note now roughly rifling through his hair. A sigh puffs from his lips as he drops both hands to his sides, you simply observe as he goes through these motions. 

“I have an idea, but you’re not gonna like it.” He states firmly, but almost rushing to get the words out. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed as if to ask exactly what he means. Before you know it, Professor Barber’s hand is waving you to stand. You do so, positioning yourself right next to the beautiful baby grand that was in the middle of the stage. He moves himself to the center of the bench before patting his hand twice against his thigh, seemingly indicating for you to sit on his lap. But surely that couldn’t be true, right? Your professor wouldn’t be asking you to sit on him.

Right?

“I’m only doing this so that I can have your hands on top of mine, now sit down so we can get this finished.” He says it as if it’s just a simple task, like instead of sitting on your very handsome Professor’s lap you’re just tying a shoe. Nevertheless, you comply. You move in front of him, scooting yourself between the piano and his large form before sitting down on his thick thighs. Immediately he’s positioning his hands on the keyboard, and you do the same. With your hands resting on top of his almost limply, you can trace what he’s doing when he moves across the keys. You watch as the two of your hands almost meld with his, each sound coming out perfectly and echoing through the theatre. The time speeds by, so hypnotized by the beauty of it all that when he pulls his hands away you are almost in shock. You swallow, lick your lips, and focus on the keys. What distracts you, though, is Charlie’s hands resting on your thighs. You adjust yourself, unaware of how it affects him, and play. The song comes out wrong right off the bat, playing an octave too low. You stop completely, taking your hands off of the keys but not getting far as his hands grab yours and place them back on the keys. 

“Play. Don’t give up, this needs to be perfected before the end of the night.” His face is so close that you can feel his warm breath against your hair, filtering through to your neck. He moves his head so that he’s looking over your shoulder, easy since he’s so much taller than you. You adjust yourself again and his hands grip your hips. 

“Stop moving.” He demands, voice harsh. You listen but brush it off, moving to play the piece and actually getting it right this time. You continue playing, the correct notes filling your heart with joy at finally achieving what you had been practicing so hard at. Only when you feel something under you do you get distracted, pressing one wrong key but ignoring it and continuing. It’s not until you’ve finished the piece that you realize that thing touching you was your Professor. And neither one of his hands had made its way under you. You try to move off of him, face heated with embarrassment, but he pulls you back down by your wrist to sit on his clothed cock. 

“Not good enough.” He growls in your ear, hands moving up your thighs and over your clothed pussy. One of his fingers traces a circle over your clit through the two layers of fabric and you let out a whine. “Keep playing.” 

“But-” Words are interrupted by a moan when he presses down hard on your clit.

“Keep. Playing.” He whispers the words, making you bite down on your bottom lip softly in an effort to focus. You nod, restarting the piece. As you play, his hand moves below your leggings, one less piece of fabric separating his warm hand from your clit. You play on, still missing a few notes here and there as he slips his hands under your panties as well. Now, his warm middle finger is rubbing slow circles around your clit and you can’t focus. The notes come out all wrong, almost sounding like you’re playing another song entirely. Instead of playing on, your hands slam against the keys as his pace accelerates. A moan slips from your lips, carrying through the empty theatre and causing Charlie to move down and press a finger into your entrance. After pumping into you once, twice, three times, he removes his hand completely. He hits your ass, expressing for you to stand and you do so. He pulls down everything below your waist and unzips his own black slacks, removing his cock from his boxer-briefs. Hands at your hips, he moves you back in front of him and bends you forward over the piano. Confusion runs through your head, is he just going to fuck you over the piano? Not make you play anymore? Not that you were complaining but-

Right as you’re trying to figure out what’s going on Charlie licks a thick stripe up your cunt, tasting you and preparing you for his thick cock. He knows how big he is and wants to make sure you’re at least a bit ready for him. His tongue plunges into your hole, fucking you quickly and roughly. Small groans vibrate against you, only furthering the pleasure. Right as you can feel your stomach twist he pulls away, roughly yanking you down back to hover over him. Charlie’s hand grabs the base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance before pulling you all the way down on to him. You let out a gasp, feeling almost as if you’re being split open on him due to his girth. You lean forward to rest your forehead on the piano and he allows you to, lifting your ass up and down and pushing his own hips up to fuck you. After a bit though, he’s not so nice. An arm wraps around your stomach and pulls you to sit straight up. 

“Play it correctly. The first time.” The words come out strained and you can tell he’s trying hard not to buck up into you, for now at least. You nod your head and place your hands on the keys, pulsing and clenching around his length. 

“Speak.” He demands, pulling you down so that his entire length is plunged deep into you. 

“Yes Professor Barber, I’ll play it correctly.” The sound of your professor’s name coming out of your mouth just feels so dirty. And he’s thinking the exact same thing. He lets out a groan as you begin to play, actually carrying out the whole thing correctly this time even with his hips rolling up into you. You hit the final note and he picks you up, leans you against the piano, and starts plunging into you hard and rough. 

“Make me stay here so late, you owe me this tight little cunt.” He grabs a fistful of your hair to help pull you back into him. 

“Such a dirty slut, taking your professor’s cock. On stage, no less. What if there was a whole audience here? I bet you’d perform like the little attention whore you are, wouldn’t you?” He waits a few seconds for your response and when nothing comes out, he tugs harshly at your hair. 

“I said, wouldn’t you?” His cock is angled perfectly, hitting your g-spot and making strings of gasps and moans pour from your mouth. 

“Y-yes Professor, I’d love it. Love to have them all s-see what they don’t g-get.” You stutter out the sentence, each word punctuated by a slam into you. The keys are getting pressed in a jumble of noise, neither one of you caring enough to do anything about it. Charlie pulls you up by your hair so that your back is flush against his chest and continues fucking into you, lips covering your neck in bruises. 

Your head lulls back to give him more access and he takes it, tongue darting out to soothe each bite he gives to your neck. After a few seconds he bites down on to the junction of your neck and shoulder, stuttering his hips and pouring his cum into you. He pushes you back down to bend over the piano and fucks his cum into you before slowly pulling away. As soon as he’s out he’s on his knees, flipping you so that your back is rested against the baby grand and swiping his tongue from your tight pussy to your clit before creating a suction around the latter. Your back is arching and your mouth is wide open as he continues until you cum. Scream leaving your mouth, Charlie takes all of your juices mixed with his into his mouth. He holds them there, standing and reaching up to your face. He pinches your cheeks between his thumb and index finger, spitting it all into your mouth. His large hand covers your mouth and nose so that you have no choice but to swallow it, enjoying the tangy flavor of the two of you combined. 

He pulls his pants up, leaving you panting across the piano before grabbing his briefcase that had been sat next to the piano and walking off of stage. You turn your head to see him walk down the aisle between seats and to the door. Before he leaves, one sentence leaves his mouth without even the turn of his head. 

“See you Monday.”


End file.
